


Buying silence

by Keenir



Category: Dresden Files (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:16:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keenir/pseuds/Keenir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Desperate men and the silences they buy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buying silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fififolle](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Fififolle).



> requested: **_Harry Dresden, needing the cash_**
> 
> author's note: Harry's thought is to this guy - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dashiell_Hammett

My stomach doesn't normally rumble even when I'm hungry, but this morning was an exception. It didn't help things when Bob remarked it was a good thing he was already dead, and then swung the conversation over to asking me when I was going to go looking for work.

Usually I don't look for work - work finds me.

But not lately. Nope, things've been awfully quiet lately. Kudos to Morgan, I suppose, for keeping everything peaceful. I'd toast his success if I hadn't finished off the bread and milk yesterday.

I was just about to get up - okay I was already starting to get up from behind my desk - when my front door opened.

And in walked Kirmani.

C'mon, what's up with that? I mean, I read the detective novels. It's supposed to be a luscious vixen with silky tresses and big pouting scarlet lips and smooth, shapely legs that slide in and out of the cut in her kinda-sorta tight dress.

Or Murphy. Preferably Murph - no offense, Mr Hammett, but, well, there ya go.

"Ah, Detective Kirmani," I say. "What can I do for you?" Normally I'd say 'what can I do you for?' or somesuch, but hungry beggars can't be choosy buggers - Bob's right on that score.

"My niece is having a birthday party," he tells me.

I open my mouth to object, to remind him of what it says on my business card...but my stomach shuts my mouth before my brain can get a word out. _Et tu?_ "And you need a wizard?" I ask, kicking my desperation and what it's reduced me to.

"Trust me, Saint Nick, you're not my first choice of a magician either."

"Thank you," I say, grateful for that much. Saint Nick - famous for making dowries appear in the homes of the needed. Granted, he threw pouches of money in through an open window, but beggars can't be choosers. And I suppose it was a good gesture of Kirmani's, calling me something less insulting than Gandolf or a Hogwarts student.

"So? We got a deal?"

Can't really take much time to think it over. For one thing, the cubboards're bare. For another, "I've got one condition," I tell Kirmani.

"What's that? No Potter jokes?" I'd expect it from the kids.

"Nobody hears about this. You don't tell anyone, and I don't tell anyone."

"Done," he says after a moment's thought. "What about Murphy?"

"We _especially_ don't tell Murphy."


End file.
